


curtain call

by armideatys



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Villaneve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armideatys/pseuds/armideatys
Summary: one final good deed by oksana “villanelle” astankova. up to s3e6 possible spoilers.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, villanelle - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	curtain call

**Author's Note:**

> a little prediction my mind made despite the fact that we are getting a fourth season...so don’t take this too strongly to heart. a bittersweet goodbye.

“eve.”  
villanelles voice, softer than eve’s heard in a long while. eve’s body doesn’t have enough energy left to react, she barely tenses over her gin and tonic. she leans heavily on the counter to turn herself around and face villanelle.

she stands, tall and magnetic as ever, except the pride she’s carried in her shoulders seems to have melted away. her eyes graze over eve’s body, tired but hungry as ever. eve feels the usual twinge of excitement, despite the general ache of absolute fatigue in her bones.

“do we really have to meet whenever i’m exhausted?” eve grumbles. she knocks back the rest of her cocktail. villanelle laughs softly, stepping forward into the dingy kitchen light. eve can see the welts across her forehead and a badly split lip, and as she reaches forward for the gin bottle, a long angry burn across her collarbone. 

“i’m feeling pretty tired too.” v leans back against the squat white fridge, cradling the bottle in interlocked fingers.

“latest assignment was rough, huh?”

v looks up at the ceiling as she takes a swig.  
“you could say that, yes.” she clears her throat, turning her gaze back to eve. her heart skips as it always does, and as her eyes scan v’s expression she can’t help but linger on her lips. they smirk, much to eve’s chagrin at being caught.

“thanks for believing me.” v says, fingers tapping absently on the glass of the bottle.

“i know it wasn’t you. i’m not stupid.”

“yeah, i know. dasha was, though.”

eve scoffs this time, thrusting her glass toward villanelle. she pours her a generous portion. 

“was? has she wisened up since i last saw her?”

villanelle meets her gaze, an old familiar triumph in her eyes. she digs her hand into her bomber jacket pocket and pulls out a scrap of fabric. she slaps it on the counter next to eve.

a blue polyester-silk rag torn out of a jacket. a bloodied D in silver embroidered script.

eve looks up at v, whose eyes are bright and searching for approval.  
“you’re welcome.”

eve doesn’t feel as vindicated as she would expect, nor horrified, or afraid, or any other more sane reaction. maybe a little touched, though.

“thank you.”

v’s face cracks into a beaming smile. she leans back, pleased.

“you know, this is the first time i’ve ever heard you thank me for anything.”

eve shakes her head, unable to keep a small smile from her own face. her mind wants to touch at the absurdity, but the repetition of this scene has rendered her numb to the danger which once intoxicated her and drew her into this woman’s world. now, it was a welcome and familiar space. she could depend on v to behave as she knew she would. she had always known how villanelle could behave in their previous encounters, even if she had remained willfully ignorant to some of the possibilities. 

but here they are. eve has never felt more clairvoyant, and everything is wide open, and calm. she sips the dry gin and takes a deep breath.

“i love you, eve.”

villanelles third attempt sits closer to home, now. she shakes her head, but smiles.

“i know.”

she doesn’t want to look up at her reaction.

“‘i know’, hardass as ever,” villanelle prods good naturedly. “guess it’s progress.”

“will this get you in hot water? you’ve been causing trouble lately.” eve states matter of factly. she sets her tumbler down and picks up the fabric scrap, turning it over in her fingers.

“yeah, they’re tired of me now.” villanelle watches her hands. “consider it my curtain call.” she catches eve’s glance and does a deep, exaggerated curtsy, lifting an imaginary skirt.

“what do you mean, curtain call?”

“i’m done with this life, eve.”

this time eve looks up, straight into the other woman’s eyes.

“i want out. for good.”

eve realizes she’s pulling an incredulous expression and closes her mouth. villanelles eyes are clear and serious this time. no shepherds pie in her mouth, no crocodile tears.

“i’m going to cuba tomorrow. it’ll be nothing but beaches and babes for me, at least for a while.”

eve knows v is teasing, trying to see if she can get some jealousy out of her. but she’s still too busy reeling from the revelation. she finally lets out a laugh, startling villanelle. she puts down the bloodstained D on the counter.

“drama queen until the end. the great final kill for the assassin with a heart.”

villanelle isn’t provoked. “like i said, eve, it’s my love language.”

eve smiles.

“is this goodbye, then?”

she feels a real twinge in her chest, this time. is it sorrow? or disappointment? she doesn’t know anymore, honestly she hasn’t been able to identify a single emotion in a long time. 

“yes, eve.” her eyes seem to search eve’s with a deeper urgency. eve knows she’s probably an open book now, but her exhaustion puts up no resistance. if this is the last time, what does it matter?

“okay.”

villanelle breathes deeply.

“okay.”

she sets the bottle of gin down, skimming her fingers over the countertop, nudging the torn scrap before landing her hands in eve’s, squeezing them gently.

“a souvenir for our good times.”

eve follows v to her apartment door, holding it open as she steps over the threshold. villanelle turns back a last time, and eve steps forward to press her lips against hers.

it’s tender this time, and their eyes shut for a long moment, stretched into infinity in the dingy building hallway. when eve steps back, hands folded nervously in front of her as they always are, villanelle has the softest smile eve has ever seen on her face.

“goodbye, eve.”

“goodbye, villanelle.”

eve watches the woman finally turn away, walking down the hall and disappearing around the corner of the staircase. eve can’t help but stand there for a few seconds longer, waiting for what, she doesn’t know. when the silence doesn’t relent, she finally shuts her door, letting out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.


End file.
